I try to hide my smile, but I know parts of it peek through. Since the moment Owen found out about Rosie, he’s never left my side.
Beck lets out a humorless laugh but says nothing. I can tell seeing me move on pisses him off, but it’s because he’s territorial, no other reason.
Owen stiffens next to me, so I grab his hand and link our fingers in hopes he will calm.
“I’m sorry it turned out this way, Lo.”
I turn to him, my fingers still laced with Owen’s. “I’m not.”
With that I squeeze Owen’s hand, both of us ready to take the next train back to London and leave this all behind us.
If someday my little girl wants to know about him, I’ll tell her the truth and let her make the choice. As for Beck, I already know he’s not going to come knocking.
One Year Later — Christmas 2020
“Are you sure you want to do presents before we go see everyone?” Owen asks as Rosie bolts around the room. Owen and I have been living together for a little over a year, and things between us have never been better. It’s safe to say after getting Beck to sign those papers a year ago, I’ve finally felt as if I can move on.
“It’s just a little something I want you to have before we’re with everyone,” I say. I smooth my hands over my red velvet dress, my attempt to add some holiday cheer into the wardrobe. Also, the three of us have on ridiculous reindeer ears. To say we look like a silly Christmas card family would be an understatement.
Rosie rushes toward the tree, her red tartan dress with a white collar swaying as she runs toward us. Big golden curls sit atop her head, pinned together with a bow, while her blue eyes shine at the row of presents surrounding her.
“Okay, sit down,” I instruct Owen, my insides about to burst with excitement. Also fear. And anxiety. But mostly excitement.
“Down, down!” Rosie yells at Owen. Of course he does it instantly. She’s got him wrapped around her little finger.
I no longer have the fear of Beck taking Rosie, and in the past year conversations of Owen’s permanent presence in Rosie’s life have come up. I know she sees him as her dad. Hell, I see him as her dad too.
We’ve never talked of anything official, but I know Owen. I know how badly he wants official longevity in her life.
“Rosie, come here, baby,” I call to her. She comes running at the sound of my voice but goes straight to Owen, who is sitting on the couch. He doesn’t hesitate to scoop her up, then plop her down next to him. Her frilly white socks occupy her while I turn back to him. With shaking hands, I hand him the envelope. His eyes are curious as he rips open the top.
Rosie, being Rosie, wants in on the action, her little paws attempting to grab the paper from him. He just laughs, picking her up and placing her on his lap. She beams, wiggling on top of him.
“Hurry,” I tease, my anticipation getting the better of me.
Finally, Owen pulls out the set of papers that could possibly change everything for us. For the past two years, Owen has been by her side since before she was even born. Every appointment, every milestone, we’ve shared it with him. Plus, numerous conversations over the past two months have indeed let me know this is something he wants. Something I want too.
Slowly he looks over the paper, his mouth forming a small O shape. He continues to read it and from his sharp inhale, I know he understands what I’m asking.
“I know it’s soon, but I wouldn’t ask you unless I was one hundred percent sure. You’ve been a dad to Rosie since the moment we went to that first ultrasound appointment together. She adores you as much as I do, and to be honest, I’m pretty sure she already thinks you’re her dad. So, Owen, I wanted to make it official and ask. Would you like to adopt her?”
I pause, waiting for his response. He shudders out a breath, and his eyes latch onto my own. They’re slightly damp, something I’ve yet to see from Owen.
“I’m not sure what I did in this life to deserve the two of you, but God, Lottie, you’ve just given me the greatest gift.”
My lips turn up slightly at the sides as my eyes close briefly. Bringing my palms flat against my chest, I try to let him know how much that means to me. “Thank you,” I mouth, not only for this, but for everything.
I don’t know when my feet move on their own, but the next second I’m on the couch, next to my little family. Owen has his arms around me, his lips pressed against my head. We sit like that, Rosie slumping against Owen, her round eyes looking up at us in awe. I don’t know how much her ever-forming mind understands, but it’s clear to me in this moment, she notices the shift.
“You hear that, Rosie?” Owen whispers to her. “I’m officially your dad.”
“My dadda,” she says, her squeaky little voice repeating his words.
And her dadda he is.
Two hours later we’re at Evie’s for Christmas dinner. My mum and dad have flown in, Mum attempting to help with dinner, but truthfully she seems to be making Evie more frazzled. Dad and Steve have seemed to form a friendship, their love of historic literature keeping them occupied.
Then there are my humans.
Stana and Ali snuggle close to one another, their three-year anniversary of meeting right around the corner. Owen may or may not have let it slip Ali has a big plan for them. A sparkly kind of
